Pimpin' Ain't Easy
by Racey
Summary: Ichigo is a hardcore player, who doesn't believe in settling down just yet. That is, until he meets a sinfully handsome, blue-haired gas attendant. ONESHOT! AU, yaoi, swearing.


**PIMPIN' AIN'T EASY**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**ONESHOT gift for my friend, minsra over at dA. Hope you enjoy this!**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

The door slammed shut behind him as he tripped over his feet, careening towards his car. His jeans were down around his ankles, making the action a feat in itself, but getting caught just wasn't an option here. Ichigo gasped as a rock the size of his fist flew past his head.

"Fuck!" he hissed, bending over to grab his pants. "Rule number two: never get caught!"

He finally managed to grab a hold of his jeans and yank them up to a decent place around his thighs. Thankfully, doing so had caused him to bend again, missing a second rock. Wind whistled past his ear and made his blood freeze. Whoever that big guy was, he was surely trying to kill Ichigo. Ichigo glanced over his shoulder and felt all the blood in his body disappear. The man chasing behind him, chucking rocks at his head was bigger than huge. He had to be well over six feet, in fact, almost seven, but that wasn't the worst part. He was wearing a creepy shark grin that split his face in half and his hair... The hair was inky black, but it was done up in these strange looking spikes.

"What the hell?" Ichigo grumbled to himself.

He whipped around and skidded over to his car, praying he would make it to the vehicle before the giant caught up to him. He would never, _ever_ trust one of his trysts again when they told him they were home alone with no possibility of their other halves arriving on the scene.

Fuck that.

Ichigo leaped into his unlocked Honda Civic and started it up, hands fumbling with the key for the briefest of seconds. A loud crash made him duck his head, eyes widening. He slowly lifted his head and took in the damage of his left back window, a tick starting above his brow. Did that asshole just...? Another rock sailing through his already broken back window, sent him screeching away from the curb, smoke and burning rubber the only reminders that he'd even been there. Ichigo didn't stop speeding until he was five blocks away from his home. He'd wound through the streets, just in case because he did _not_ need the extra drama of being followed to his safe haven. He parked in the lot behind his apartment building and cut the engine, allowing his heart time to calm down.

Byakuya was gorgeous, but he wasn't worth having Ichigo's life taken over. Ichigo didn't remember when exactly he'd met Byakuya, but he remembered feeling like he had to have him. He'd been in the mall, browsing for a new pair of jeans and maybe some new sneakers, when he'd been passing by an upscale tuxedo store. At first glance, there had been nothing eye catching, but as he'd glanced over again, Byakuya had emerged from behind a rack of jackets and Ichigo had been floored. He'd stopped abruptly, heart thumping loudly and libido going wild. If it could talk, it would've been telling him to get his ass in there and mark his territory..._now_. Ichigo hadn't needed the prompt, however, because he'd gone inside the store anyway, mind set on making the dark-haired beauty his next conquest.

Byakuya had been attracted (Ichigo had been able to tell immediately), but had played hard to get, claiming he had a boyfriend already. Ichigo should have listened to his instincts screaming at him to leave men alone that were already taken, but he hadn't been able to pass up the chance to bed Byakuya. And bed him he had. It hadn't taken more than a week to get Byakuya's shell to crack and once it had...

Ichigo shook his head as he gripped the steering wheel. Byakuya had been good, but Ichigo had had better. Not to mention, the dark-haired man had come with one too many complications in the form of an overprotective, jealous, and scary as shit lover. No, thank you. That would be the last time Ichigo went to visit Byakuya. Besides, he was still looking for that special someone that would make him hang up his player hat, put down his pimp cane and walk the straight and narrow. So, until then, he would continue to shamelessly play the field.

**XxxxxX**

Ichigo left the bathroom, the steam from the shower filling the short hallway to his bedroom. He grinned as he ran a hand towel through his short, spiky hair. He had a date with a new tryst that he'd met at the grocery store a few blocks from his home. He couldn't wait to meet up with this one. The ash white hair and strange eyes had been more than enough to get him to exchange numbers with the guy, but then the personality had done him in. Shiro reminded Ichigo of himself, with his outspoken and gruff manner. Even though the guy gave off dominant, arrogant airs, Ichigo wasn't having it. He himself was arrogant, bordering on narcissistic, so it only made sense for him to make that pretty albino bend to his will. And there was nothing the guy could do to make him change his mind, either. Ichigo hadn't met the man that would make him feel the urge to bottom yet.

He stepped into his room and sauntered over to his bed, where his outfit was laid across it. He thought the navy-blue, v-neck tee and stone-washed blue jeans would be good enough. Besides, he didn't plan to have the clothes on very long anyway. Shiro had made it very clear that he wanted to fuck and Ichigo had been relieved and excited. The albino's body was a work of art. He was lean, muscular and graceful. His expressions were more intriguing than any he'd seen on any other man so far, alternating from devilish, to smug, to downright belligerent at times. It was fun to witness, that was for sure.

Shiro had given Ichigo his address and told him to come by at around eleven that night, so he'd agreed and was eagerly anticipating undressing the other man with his eyes as well as his hands. He wanted to run his fingers all over that pale skin and see if it felt as lovely as it looked.

_Girl, I gotta go, I'm finished with the show_

_If you wanna **** me, I won't say no_

_T-t-t-touchin' on my ****, while I'm touchin on your ****_

_You know that we are gonna ****, cuz I don't give a ****_

Ichigo glared at his phone, wondering who the hell was calling him now. He snatched the noisy device from his night stand and answered with a clipped, "Yo."

"I'd like to see you."

He felt the blood drain from his face as he recognized the caller. "I don't think that's a good idea."

There was a short silence before the caller was speaking again, this time his statement punctuated with an impatient sigh. "We can acquire a hotel room."

"Yeaaahhh, no. I don't think so."

"Why are you cutting me off? Have I done something wrong?"

Ichigo's mouth fell open as he pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it as if it had the key to life. "A-are you kidding me?" he squeaked, returning it to his ear.

"I do not kid," the voice spat in disgust. "What is the issue? We won't meet at my home, so there will be no chance of interruption. I do not see the problem."

"Byakuya!" Ichigo snapped. "Your man is fuckin' _crazy_! He smashed my goddamn car window! Ya think I'm fuckin' witcha after that? _Hell no_!"

Another silence, this one more intense than the last. "I don't see the problem, Ichigo. Kenpachi will be a non-factor. Why do you protest so strongly?"

Ichigo rubbed his temple and sighed. Byakuya was insane if he thought he was actually going to meet up with him again. And run the risk of that loony ass giant following his boyfriend to the hotel room? No fucking way.

"Byakuya, Kenpachi is a lunatic. Honestly, I don't see how you can maintain a working relationship with the guy, but hey! To each his own, right?"

"So, you will not see me then?"

Ichigo shook his head vehemently, even though he knew Byakuya couldn't see him. "N-o."

"Fine. This marks the end of our relationship."

"Relationship, you say?" Ichigo asked, sarcasm hanging from his bottom lip and squealing excitedly. "Riiiight. If you say so, Byakuya. Oh, and lose my number, by the way."

With that, Ichigo ended the call and set his phone back on the night stand, good mood dampened considerably. He couldn't _believe_ the nerve of Byakuya, calling him like nothing had happened. As if his nutty boyfriend hadn't smashed his window to smithereens and chucked rocks at his head. Ichigo scoffed and went back to getting dressed. He slipped into his boxers, mind a million miles away.

**XxxxxxX**

Ichigo wound through the streets, GPS getting him lost as usual. Shiro had given him his address, but the system hadn't picked it up. He'd had to ask the albino for a landmark, just so he'd be able to find it. Annoying. If Shiro didn't make this trip worthwhile, there would be hell to pay.

"Make slight right in .02 miles," the female GPS voice instructed.

He frowned. "What the fuck is a slight right?"

He stared ahead at the road, frown deepening into a confused scowl. The street didn't even fork, so where was he supposed to make a slight right? There was an intersection ahead, however, so Ichigo made the first right possible. Of course it was a mistake.

"Re-routing."

"Fuck!" he yelled.

To hell with this shit. Ichigo pulled into the closest gas station and parked, fuming the entire time. He'd just have to suck in his pride and ask for directions to Shiro's address. He turned off the car and hopped out, striding towards the gas attendant standing beside a purple Dodge Neon. The nozzle was still stuck inside the gas tank opening and the attendant had his back turned to Ichigo. He was tall and wore a blue coverall, with a pair of black Timberland construction boots. An oil-stained rag hung from his right back pocket, the stains almost turning the entire thing black.

The man's back was broad and strong-looking under the navy-blue uniform, shoulders wide and tempting. Ichigo's steps faltered the longer he stared. Bright blue hair was hidden under a navy blue fitted cap that was worn backwards, the brim pointing towards the nape of the man's neck. Speaking of his neck, it was thickly corded and sloped under the collar of his uniform. A tattoo of the number six in gothic-stylized printing rested on the side of his neck as well, and all it did was make Ichigo shudder. The man's uniform sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing more tattoos decorating his sinewy forearms. Ichigo couldn't read the scripted words from where he stood, but the black ink against that tanned skin made his mouth go dry.

If he was reacting this way just from the man's body, God forbid the man actually be attractive in the face too. It would be sacrilege. He edged closer, but froze when the man spoke to the female owner of the Neon.

"Forty-two-twenty," he grunted.

This time, Ichigo squirmed in place, libido raising its hand to be acknowledged. That voice should be against the law. Deep, rough, husky...sexy. Ichigo took a deep breath, an unfamiliar stirring in his gut. Something about this man was making him feel a little bit restless. Ichigo continued approaching the blue-haired man, quietly waiting his turn for attention. The woman paid the man and slid into her car, but not before giving him the most lusty stare she could manage. Either the man was immune to her charms, or he was just blind. The woman was insanely attractive, sea-green hair flowing down past her shoulders and womanly curves eating up the gray sweater dress she wore. If Ichigo was into women that way, he would have been tripping over himself to get under her clothes, but the gas attendant didn't even give her the time of day.

Ichigo watched in open-mouthed awe as the man stuffed the bills into his pocket, then wiped his hand on the soiled rag. The woman pulled off, face thoroughly disappointed, while the man slowly turned in Ichigo's direction, almost immediately knocking the air from his lungs like a blow to the solar plexus. Glowing, electric blue eyes pinned him in place, paralyzing him. In other words, he couldn't move even if someone paid him a million dollars to do so. A straight nose led to full lips and a strong, angular jaw. A few strands of that bright blue hair fell across the man's brow under the edge of his fitted, and matching bright blue eyebrows were pulled into a scowl.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

Ichigo swallowed thickly, heart tapping politely against his ribs before banging forcefully. The man started towards him, hands stuck in his pockets and gait slow and purposeful. Ichigo hadn't felt anything like this ever and it made him nervous and wary of the gas attendant. Thoughts of being spread underneath the taller man made him gasp and almost swallow his tongue in shock.

_Under...neath?_

Ichigo shook the cobwebs from his mind and straightened his back as the man stopped right in front of him.

"C'n I help you?"

Ichigo could swear he saw a smug grin lighting the man's face, but he ignored it. Clearing his throat and shifting his weight, he reached into his pocket for the slip of paper containing Shiro's address. He avoided the piercing gaze drilling into his face as he recited the location.

"Er, d'you know where eighty-seven Grizholm Place is?"

The man was eerily silent while Ichigo waited, so in a fit of curiosity, Ichigo looked up. The first thing his eyes made contact with was the round, white name tag stuck over the man's left breast pocket. It read "Grimm." Ichigo quirked a brow, but raised his eyes to the man's breathtaking face. "Grimm" was staring down at him with a small, sideways smirk, sea-blue eyes holding him hostage.

"Yeah, I know that street."

Ichigo nodded, trying to rid his brain of the lusty fog hanging around. "Can ya tell me where it is?"

"Only if ya agree ta keep me company."

Ichigo shuddered. The man's rumbling voice was driving him to distraction very quickly and it was so embarrassing, but then his statement sunk in. Keep him company?

"What are you talking about? I don't even know you."

Ichigo's inner player hung his head in shame. Even _he_ inwardly cringed at what he'd just said. As if knowing a man first had ever mattered to him. "Grimm" gave him a wolfish grin and eased closer, the smell of oil and gasoline wafting from him.

"An' that means what ta me?"

Ichigo felt his jaw twitch as he tried to avoid the glare bouncing from "Grimm"'s sexy appearance. "I jus'..." his voice trailed off as he realized he really had no answer for that question. Not to mention, if he really wanted to get to Shiro's place, he would have to have this man's assistance since his GPS was doing jack shit in helping him get there.

Ichigo shuffled his feet, suddenly nervous and overwhelmed by the gas attendant's raw presence. What was he supposed to say? Should he just agree so he could get where he wanted to be? Or should he walk away from the sinfully tasty man in blue?

"Not _that_ hard, is it?"

Ichigo's eyes flew up to meet the amused gaze of the gas attendant. "Are you makin' fun a'me?" he asked, knowing he was stalling.

"Grimm" seemed to know it too. The blue-haired man edged even closer, body hot and way too tempting as he slowly removed a large hand from his pocket. Ichigo watched that hand, feeling distinctly like a canary being cornered by an aggressive cat. He stared as it made its way to his bright orange fringe, the rough-looking fingers toying with a few strands. His breath seemed to suspend in mid-air as he waited for the silence to end. What the hell was this guy up to?

"C'mon, Orange, how 'bout it? I get off in ten minutes. Why dontcha lemme show ya where yer tryna go, then maybe we c'n have some private time."

Shit. "Grimm"'s _voice_ was enough to have Ichigo nodding his head in agreement, but with him so close and smelling so positively manly...there was no way Ichigo would have been able to deny him.

"Yeah, OK," he muttered.

"Grimm" gave a feral grin, cornflower-blue eyes lighting up like fireworks. "Cool. See ya in a minute."

Ichigo stood rooted to the spot as he watched the taller man saunter away, those broad shoulders shifting and that godly back crooking its finger at him. He couldn't believe he'd just agreed to – no, he was lying. He _could_ believe it. It wasn't like he had the best track record in the world, but what he couldn't get over was how the blue-haired man had left him positively speechless. What the hell was happening to him? _He_ was the aggressor. _He_ was the smooth operator, leaving men melting in their shoes. When the fuck had the tables turned?

He finally rooted himself out of his spot and headed back to his car, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into. How was he supposed to show up at Shiro's place with an even more gorgeous man leading the way? He slid into his car and turned off his useless ass GPS, sucking his teeth at the machine. Sometimes he wished it had a real personality, just so he could curse it the fuck out properly. Music floated from the speakers, relaxing him and allowing him to get his head together after the intense moment with "Grimm." Ichigo wondered what kind of name that was. _Grimm_. He'd never heard that before, unless you counted the Grim Reaper, but he sincerely hoped that wasn't where the man had gotten his name from. That would be kind of fucked up.

A sharp rap on his window made him jerk from his thoughts, heart racing as he looked over to find the blue-haired man he'd just been thinking about standing outside. His strong-looking arm was braced against the door frame, a wide grin blessing his impossibly handsome features. Ichigo swallowed quietly, then rolled down the window. He was sort of hoping the man would have mercy on him and just give him the directions he needed. Hey, maybe he'd even forgotten that he wanted Ichigo to accompany him in the first place.

"Ya ready?" the guy asked as soon as Ichigo's window went down. _Wishful thinking_, he inwardly sighed. He nodded and licked his dry lips. Ready for _what_ exactly, he had no clue. Then again...yeah, he did. "Cool. Follow me."

He gaped as "Grimm" made his way over to the far side of the gas station parking lot and slid into a gun-metal gray Nissan Maxima. The car came to life and backed out of the parking space fluidly, the pretty vehicle obviously well taken care of. Ichigo shook himself out of his daze and put his car in reverse, quickly following the man's lead. "Grimm" drove like he was auditioning for the stunt role of an action flick. He raced through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic expertly, Ichigo barely able to keep up. Ichigo prided himself on his driving skills, but he had to grudgingly admit that he had nothing on the man driving in front of him.

He gripped the steering wheel as "Grimm" made a sharp right, tires skidding loudly, making Ichigo wonder what the hell the hurry was. They weren't being chased by the cops, so what the fuck? A few more blocks and "Grimm" finally pulled over in front of a beige house still lit up with Christmas decorations, even though it was the middle of July. Again, what the fuck? "Grimm" hopped out of his car and stalked over to Ichigo's, making the orange-haired man wince as he rolled down the window yet again. This man's presence was absolutely dangerous, but _so_ intriguing.

"This the place ya lookin' for?"

His eyes went wide as he glanced around the quiet block. The house with the Christmas lights was indeed eighty-seven Grizholm Place. He _really_ hoped Shiro wasn't some eccentric nutcase that had a thing for Christmas decorations. He would kindly take his leave and chalk the experience up to his "Don't Ever" list. Maybe Shiro's landlord or neighbors were a bit on the strange side...

That's what he was telling himself anyway.

Absently realizing that "Grimm" had asked him a question, Ichigo turned back to those glowing blue eyes and nodded, his own eyes casually roaming the man's enticing lips. "Yeah, that's the house. Thanks."

He cut the engine and climbed from the car, slowly taking in his surroundings. The block was deserted, the houses sleepy and a variety of colors, ranging from light blue to pale yellow. There were bushes and small trees and trimmed lawns, and it all just made him want to gag. Typical suburbs. He started for the porch of the lit up house, but before he could get very far, "Grimm" gripped his elbow, hold steady and sure. Ichigo glanced over at the looming man and frowned.

"What?" he asked, even though he already had an idea of what "Grimm" wanted.

"Heh. _What._ Yer comin' wit' me, that's what."

Ichigo peered from the corner of his eye at Shiro's house and sighed. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't very well tell "Grimm" that he already had plans...could he? Oh, _fuck_ yeah. What kind of player was he that he felt he had to hide shit from someone he didn't even know? But then again, "Grimm" was ridiculously hot. He wouldn't deny that _and_ he didn't really want to piss the guy off.

Hmm...what to do, what to do?

"What's your name?" he asked, trying to buy time.

"Grimm" cocked his head to the side and smiled knowingly. "Can't read?"

"Fuck you. What's your real name?"

"Grimm" barked a deep laugh and his grip on Ichigo's elbow tightened. "That's the plan, Orange."

Ichigo froze, heart leaping into his throat and sitting on the back of his tongue. Wait...what? He studied the sexy, blue-haired man in front of him and smirked. Oh really? Well, two could definitely play that game.

"Plans change, ya know?"

"Grimm" smiled, but the toothy smirk faltered a bit. "Hn," he responded, blue eyes turning to ice.

"So, what's your name?"

"I see. Name's Grimmjow. Happy now?"

"Er...what?"

"Grimm" slid closer, sharp brows drawing together. "You heard me. Why ya actin' all clueless? Ya knew what I wanted when I toldja I'd show ya how ta get here."

Ichigo certainly couldn't deny _that, _either.

He cleared his throat and took a step back, suddenly wary of the man blocking his route of escape. Why? He had no clue. It wasn't like him to let another man intimidate him, but here he was actually sweating and questioning the wisdom of his decision to let "Grimm" - no, _Grimmjow_ – lead him to Shiro's address. However, just as soon as the apprehension crept over him, it disappeared. What the hell! Just because the blue-haired man was sexy as sin, it didn't make him special. He was an ordinary man, just like the every other guy. No...different...than...the rest...

His mind faltered as Grimmjow gave him a wicked smirk, gleaming white teeth glinting under the street lights. The man's eyes flashed like lightning as he peered down his straight nose at him. Ichigo cleared his throat again and avoided that piercing blue gaze. There was something he wanted to say, but couldn't figure out for the life of him how to word it. It was pissing him off. What was so different about this guy that it left him speechless? Unable to think, let alone form coherent sentences? It wasn't like him. Like he'd mentioned before, he was _normally_ the aggressor. He _normally_ dropped smooth lines that men had no choice but to fall for. Where was his inner player at a time like this? _This_ was when the little prick was supposed to give him tips and pointers on how to deal with alien territory, yet, the noisy little asshole was strangely silent. So, without any proper instruction, Ichigo met Grimmjow's striking gaze head-on and straightened his back defiantly. He gave a crooked smirk that mirrored his usual devil-may-care attitude.

"You do this all the time?" he asked.

Grimmjow grinned. "Maybe. Does it matter?"

"No, I'm just curious."

"You ask a lotta questions, huh?"

It was Ichigo's turn to grin. "Not normally. I think it's you."

"Oh yeah? That's possible."

Ichigo chuckled, liking the blue-haired man even more. The guy was just as cocky and arrogant as he was.

"So, what're you doin' around this way, Orange?" Grimmjow asked as he leisurely leaned against Ichigo's car.

"Look, my name ain't 'Orange', OK? It's Ichigo."

The taller man snorted. "Oh yeah, that makes it better." Ichigo started to retort, but was cut off. "So, _Ichigo_, what brings you around this neck of the woods? I've never seen you here before."

"That's 'cuz I _ain't_ from around here. I just came to get some...uh..."

One of Grimmjow's blue brows went up as he regarded Ichigo with much amusement. "_Some_, huh?"

The man didn't even have to say anything more. Ichigo inwardly cringed. He'd been doing so well too. Why couldn't the words jut flow like they normally would? He'd _meant_ to leave it at "some", but for one reason or another, he'd unconsciously added "uh", as if he'd meant something else. Fuck! He rubbed a hand through his hair in agitation. Why couldn't he get right? He couldn't seem to get it together and it was driving him crazy.

"Don't tell me you came here for Shirosaki..." Grimmjow stated slowly, interrupting his panicked musing.

"H-how...?" he stuttered, thoroughly caught off guard.

"Ya see that blue house next to eighty-seven? Well, that's where I live, which explains why I know your little buddy," the blue-haired man ended with a chuckle and a shake of the head. "Ta each his own, I guess."

Ichigo frowned as he watched Grimmjow walking away. He didn't understand the sudden change in the atmosphere. One minute, the man was overly aggressive, the next...not so much. In fact, not at all. The gas attendant sauntered to the blue house he'd pointed out just a second ago and disappeared behind the white door after climbing the stoop's stairs. Ichigo didn't get it, but decided that it was his way out of a sticky situation.

He started for the lit up house and suddenly felt dread and uncertainty descending. Not only did he have the unmistakable feeling of missing out on a perfect opportunity, but he was beginning to wonder why just the mention of Shiro's name had the sexy, blue-haired Grimmjow running in the other direction. Ichigo paused, eyes widening as he reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the porch. Did it have to do with the Christmas lights? Was Shiro crazy? His heart started to race as he thought of all the possibilities. Christ, this was what he got for not doing better research on a tryst and allowing his dick to lead the way. He felt like he was standing at the lip of a rumbling volcano, staring into the bubbling pit of lava. Shiro was that volcano and Ichigo was the idiot that stood over the edge of it.

He slowly climbed the stairs, tightly clutching his car keys until he reached the door and rang the bell. He waited, pulse beating like a bass drum. After a minute of silence, the lock rattled and the door swung open. Instead of the albino Ichigo had been expecting, a tall, raven-haired form loomed in the doorway, making the orange-haired man step back and stare.

"Uh," he uttered stupidly before going silent again.

He didn't want to straight-out ask the guy where Shiro was. What if the guy was his boyfriend or something? That would be worse-case scenario. He glanced behind the tall man briefly, wondering whether Shiro was even inside or not. Was this all a practical joke? Eyes going back to the ridiculously tall man staring down at him, Ichigo noticed that the guy's left eye was covered with a white bandana, which only added to the man's creep factor. Finally, the quiet was dispelled.

"What the fuck you want?" the tall man snapped.

Which was understandable, considering Ichigo had been the one to ring the bell and stare once the door was opened. Technically, he was at fault. Still...the man's tone rubbed him the wrong way. Bristling, he sneered and started to snap back, only to be interrupted.

"Who's at the door, moron?"

The albino finally sauntered into view behind the tall man, snowy brows pulled into a fierce scowl. He elbowed the giant aside, gaining an irritated grunt in return.

"I dunno. Some orange-haired idiot," the tall man mumbled as he made his way back into the house.

"Hey!" Ichigo snapped at the man's painfully thin back. "Fuck you!"

The man merely glanced over his shoulder and snorted, lips pulled into a tiny smirk. "Heh."

"Oh, you came. Late, ain't ya?" Shiro asked, head tilted to the side.

Ichigo grinned, relieved. He didn't know what Grimmjow's problem was; there didn't seem to be anything wrong with Shiro.

"Yeah, I got lost tryna find this place."

"Haha! Yeah, it's in the cut."

He followed the pale man into the house, shutting the door behind himself. He made his way down the short hall and into the living room, only to pull up short, face twisting into a horrified grimace. First, the smell attacked him and offended the fuck out of him. Sweat, cat piss, cigarettes, and body fluids mercilessly assaulted his senses.

"What the fuck?" he breathed as he took in the scene.

Men dressed in various stages of undress were littered about the room, some lounging against the walls, others seated on the unidentifiable floor. Ichigo supposed the most disturbing part about the scene before him had to be the three men cavorting in the middle of the floor, while two men stood holding cameras, filming the grunge. The tall man that had answered the door had a cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth as he stood watching, long and skinny arms folded across his chest. Ichigo turned to Shiro and was stunned to see the man grabbing a camera and positioning himself beside the group on the floor.

"_Really, dude_?" he screeched, unable to hang onto his composure any longer.

The albino jumped and turned a confused scowl in Ichigo's direction, as if there was _absolutely nothing wrong_ with what the fuck he was doing.

"You good, Ichigo?" Shiro asked, while the tall guy smirked knowingly in the background.

Ichigo gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. _This is a joke, right?_ he thought incredulously. _There ain't no way in hell this is real. I'm being Punk'd_. Fingers snapping in front of his face made him blink and focus on Shiro, who was standing before him, camera hanging at his side.

"Didja hear me?"

"Why are you _OK_ with this?" Ichigo blurted. "What the fuck! You're runnin' an illegal porn circus! And it fuckin' _stinks _in here!"

Shiro scratched the back of his head and chuckled. "Yeah, damn cats."

"You're nuts."

"Eh? I thought you'd be more open to trying new things, Ichigo. Guess I was wrong."

"Wha? What the fuck do you mean? This ain't harmless experimenting; this is hardcore porn in someone's fuckin' living room!" Ichigo paused. "Are you stupid?" he continued, lowering his voice and leaning towards the pale man, face deadly serious.

Finally, Shiro showed some sort of emotion that fit the situation, although it was misplaced on his end. The other man frowned and pursed his lips before sneering.

"What're ya tryna say?"

"Are you kidding me? You're fucking with me right now, aren't you? I mean, there's no possible way you can think this is OK. This is wrong on so many levels, _I've lost count_. Dude...I'm outta here."

Ichigo shoved his hands into his pockets and hightailed it out of the house. He slipped around the front door and after shutting it, leaned against it and took a few deep breaths. What the fucking hell? Seriously, though? He'd never encountered anything like that in his life. _No wonder_ Grimmjow had gone in the other direction with the mention of Shiro's name. He must have known what lay behind door number three.

Deep chuckling to his left startled him out of his thoughts and made him look for the source. Speaking of Grimmjow, the blue-haired man was seated on the porch siding of his home, long legs dangling over the edge.

"Not your cup a'tea, eh?" he asked, a cigarette held between the fingers of his right hand.

"You fuckin' knew, didn't you!" Ichigo snapped, beside himself.

Grimmjow – the prick – could have given him a heads up or _something_. Why would the guy let him go through an ordeal like that? Ichigo wouldn't even let his worse enemy into that house. Well...maybe he would, but that was beside the point. Grimmjow cackled as Ichigo made his way to the man's front lawn. He stood there and aimed an accusing finger at the gas attendant.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

A sharp blue brow went up as Grimmjow tossed the spent cigarette. "Was I s'posed to?"

"OK, no. B-but you could have had a heart. Haven't you ever heard of a good Samaritan?"

"Hahahaha!" Grimmjow practically roared with laughter. "I mean, I figured you knew what you were gettin' into."

"Fuck you. You knew I was clueless."

"Heh. Maybe."

"Asshole," Ichigo grumbled as he ran a hand through his hair.

He still couldn't believe Grimmjow had allowed him to go into that den of filth. He really felt devastated by what he'd experienced and not because of what was going on, but because he'd been unable to foresee it. He had to go easy on himself, though. How was he supposed to know a normal-looking guy like Shiro was...a lunatic dirt bag? There was no way. He nodded to himself, failing to register the soft rustle of clothing that meant the man on the porch had moved. He didn't realize it until the blue-haired man was right in front of him. It was then that he noticed the man's change of attire: black basketball shorts, a black A-shirt and black athletic slippers. He was fine with a capital FINE.

Grimmjow must have showered in the short space of time Ichigo was gone because he no longer smelled so strongly of gasoline and oil. Now, he smelled like Irish Spring body wash, peppermint toothpaste and cigarettes. Ichigo's head spun, even though he tried not to inhale too much. It was pretty useless, though. Muscular arms and shoulders exposed, Grimmjow's tattoos stood out with a fist pump. His bright blue hair was still a little damp, but no less wild without the hat, and those eyes... They were like shooting electrical currents, glowing blue and flashing. Ichigo had never seen eyes that blue in his life. They alone were mesmerizing, but coupled with the rest of the guy's features, it was like God had been feeling especially creative.

"So, ya gonna keep me company now or what?" Grimmjow rumbled.

Ichigo smirked and leaned back enough to peer into the guy's face. "Yeah, I think I deserve a reward for entering no-man's land. You don't have any hidden shit I need to know about beforehand, though, do you?"

The blue-haired man tilted his head back and gave a loud bark of laughter. Once he sobered up, he lowered his head and locked eyes with Ichigo again. "Well, I dunno, Ichigo. How ya feel about handcuffs?"

"Those ain't so bad," he answered, stomach flipping anxiously.

Warmth spread from his gut, to his pelvis, down to his toes, then went tingling through his fingers. He was getting excited now. Grimmjow presented the unknown; it was exhilarating. The blue-haired man stepped back and turned his back with a mysterious grin. When the man started climbing the stairs, Ichigo watched his bottom, a frown making its way across his brow. Grimmjow had a nice ass, but for some reason, Ichigo wasn't interested in it the way he should have been. On the other hand, his curiosity about what the man had between his legs was reaching its peak. The gas attendant glanced over his shoulder, smirk wide and devilish.

"I knew you were lookin' at my ass," he said before turning and continuing into the house. "Don't get any ideas, though, _Ichigo_."

Well, that statement was somewhat of a challenge, considering he already had a plethora of ideas running through his mind. Hell, he'd come there with the intent to fuck and conquer, although the targets were now changed. Didn't mean anything. He followed the blue-haired man into the house and shut the door behind himself, praying he wasn't walking into a situation similar with the Shiro one. He would be severely disappointed, almost devastated. Grimmjow was too gorgeous to be a creep. At least, that's what he was telling himself as he slowly made his way down the hall.

"Over here."

Grimmjow's deep voice made Ichigo jump drastically. He hadn't been expecting the man to appear beside him, holding open a door that obviously led to the basement. He took a calming breath and peered past the door frame, nervous. What was down those wooden stairs?

"What's down there?" he asked.

"My cave," Grimmjow responded from in front of him.

Ichigo watched the man descend the stairs, then walk straight ahead. After that, he lost sight of the guy. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about being ambushed since it was plenty of light down there. He stepped past the door and crept down the stairs, heart racing. Please don't let Grimmjow be some sort of freak. He really wanted to taste all of that tanned skin and run his fingers through that thick and soft-looking blue hair.

Finally, he reached the lower level of the house and looked around. He chuckled with relief. It was your typical bachelor pad. A huge, flat-screen TV was showcased on the wall to his right, surrounded by DVDs and a souped up entertainment system. In front of that was a short but sturdy wooden coffee table, and in front of that was a black, soft-leather couch shaped like an arc. A few feet behind the couch was a classic pool table, pool balls already cued in the middle of the green felt and pool sticks hanging from the wall. A large fish tank was to the left of the couch, and housed all sorts of tropical fish and colorful stones. To the left of the pool table was a fully stocked bar, complete with red cushioned bar stools.

Ichigo whistled and glanced over at the wall to the right of the huge TV. Antique guns hung from pegs, gleaming and beautiful. There were Colt Walkers and a pair of Peniet's, among others. The collection was incredible and obviously immaculately cared for. Further to the right of that wall was a door. It stood open and revealed a room with a cement floor and a water heater. There was a washing machine and dryer there as well. Curious, Ichigo stepped inside and looked around. This was what he'd been expecting when he thought of a basement. Pipes along the ceiling, damp cement floor and the classic basement smell. Running water caught his attention and made him peer beyond the washer and dryer to another open door. This one was cracked, however. He took a step towards it, but froze when the water stopped and the door was flung wide. Grimmjow appeared, brows slightly furrowed as he wiped his hands with a small towel. The frown disappeared when he glanced up, though.

"Couldn't wait?" he asked.

Ichigo suppressed a small shudder. The man's voice would definitely take some getting used to. Wait...what? What the hell was he thinking? This was a one night stand sort of deal. Considering the man in future tense would get him in trouble.

"Not really," he answered, turning on the charm and sauntering over to the taller man.

He didn't waste a second of time before reaching up and cupping the back of the man's head and connecting their lips. Grimmjow grunted in surprise, but quickly recovered, large hands going to Ichigo's waist. Ichigo dominated the kiss at first, tongue thrusting and petting the other man's warm and moist muscle. He tasted like toothpaste and cigarettes. Feeling on top of the world, Ichigo started grinding his hips against Grimmjow's, low growls emitting from both of them. Then, suddenly, the equilibrium was skewed. Grimmjow started backing him towards the washer as his tongue grew infinitely more aggressive. It wasn't that Ichigo was being submissive, either. He wasn't; it just seemed like he was more interested in what the blue-haired man was going to do next.

Unexpectedly, the man backed out of the kiss. Ichigo frowned and started to protest, but almost bit his tongue in shock when Grimmjow none too gently yanked his jeans down to his thighs. He stared down at the tent formed in his dark-blue boxer briefs, stunned. The gas attendant had officially made his inner player arch a brow. When the man went on to divest him of his underwear as well, that arched brow morphed into a devilish grin. Grimmjow's hands were big and rough, and only served to add to the amount of friction applied when he wrapped one around Ichigo's length. That lasted for all of ten seconds before the man was lowering himself to his knees in front of Ichigo. Eyes wide, all he could do was stare as Grimmjow engulfed half his dick in one go. It was sinful to the eyes. Ichigo's mouth slid open a bit as he leaned his head back, eyes closing and hand plowing into that mess of bright blue hair.

So, this was different. Normally, it was he who initiated the oral play. Not that he was complaining. He rolled his head to get another look at the man between his legs and hissed, brows scrunching together. If he thought Grimmjow was sexy before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Those luminous, multi-blue eyes were shut, and those full lips were wrapped tightly around his pipe. His head bobbed back and forth, slowly at first, then it would speed up.

"Ungh," Ichigo grunted as Grimmjow sucked a little harder.

He inhaled quickly when the blue-haired man lifted a hand and massaged his balls, the fingers in the man's hair drawing into a fist. He guided Grimmjow's movements, moans being dragged from him as he concentrated on the dirty slurping noises and low growls filling the silence. That – coupled with the erotic sight of Grimmjow giving him impeccable head – made his knees tremble and his hips form a mind of their own. He was shoved closer and closer towards release, which he didn't want just yet.

"Oh shit," he whispered.

Grimmjow pulled back and looked up at him with a smirk, mouth still poised over Ichigo's shaft and tongue still cupping the underside of it. He huffed a chuckle before closing his eyes again and enthusiastically going back to his task, this time bringing his other hand up to stroke what his mouth didn't reach. Ichigo felt like his toes would curl any second now.

"Mmm, fuck," he moaned.

Grimmjow concentrated on the head of his dick, sucking and licking, and it almost did him in. Luckily, he was aware enough to reach down and grab the man under his elbows, lifting him to his feet. The blue-haired man gave a sideways smirk as he braced his arms around Ichigo against the washing machine.

"Ya like that, huh?"

"Hell yeah," Ichigo responded, hands going to the hem of Grimmjow's wife-beater.

The shirt was pulled up and off, then flung to the side carelessly. He'd been itching to get a good look at the gas attendant in the nude for a while now, and he wasn't disappointed. Grimmjow had washboard abs that – even though they were littered with tiny scars – rippled like ridged potato chips. His pectorals looked firm, but supple and his Adonis lines were heavily pronounced.

"Jeez," Ichigo mumbled.

"Heh."

He went for Grimmjow's basketball shorts, but had his wrists grabbed in the process. Confused, he frowned up into those glowing blue eyes.

"Wait a minute," Grimmjow rumbled.

His wrists were let go as the blue-haired man dug into the pocket of his shorts. What he produced made both Ichigo's brows jump to the ceiling. A pair of handcuffs were set on top of the washer as well as a small bottle of lubricant and a condom. The last two items were perfectly normal for what they planned to do, but Ichigo thought the man had been kidding when he'd mentioned handcuffs.

"Y-you were serious?" he asked, voice a little higher than he wanted it to be.

Grimmjow's resulting grin was wide and filthy. He leaned close and murmured in Ichigo's ear, "Turn around, Sexy."

"Huh?"

Instead of speaking again, Grimmjow gently gripped Ichigo's hips and slowly turned him around to face the wall and washer. His naked erection pressed against the cold machine, making a chill rip through his body. Goosebumps sprang up all over his arms, neck and chest as his breathing grew erratic. What was he doing? Why was allowing this to go down?

"Relax," Grimmjow crooned.

His large hand ran up and down Ichigo's back before sliding the shirt over his head. Ichigo shrugged it off of his arms and let it fall to the floor, still anxious about what was happening. Completely nude, he felt vulnerable and exposed. A soft kiss to his shoulder made his skin tingle as he glanced back at the blue-haired man. His heart was positively going insane. Then, Grimmjow lowered the ax. He lifted Ichigo's arms over his head, the clinking of the cuffs making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. However, it was too late to be apprehensive. The taller man affixed one cuff to Ichigo's left wrist before maneuvering the chain around a pipe behind the washer. Once Grimmjow clasped the second cuff to his right wrist, Ichigo took a deep breath. The positioning of the handcuffs made his back arch over the washing machine and pressed his erection against it even more.

"Comfortable?" Grimmjow asked quietly, warm body carefully weighing on Ichigo's back.

"I-I'm good."

Was this really happening? Was he really going to lose his backdoor virginity? _Now_? _Holy shit!_ his mind squealed in a panic.

Grimmjow rubbed his back again, this time his rough palms were skin to skin and it sent electrical currents shooting though his system. He was nervous as hell, but also excited. He'd never been on the receiving end of sex before, so it was an alien experience for him. However, his mouth was dry, hands clammy and toes curling and uncurling anxiously.

"This yer first time, ain't it?" Ichigo nodded slowly. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he wasn't a liar. "I'll make it good for you."

Grimmjow kissed his shoulder again, then licked his way up to Ichigo's neck, tongue tracing the space right below his hairline. The man's lips were so soft, his tongue hot and wet. Ichigo strained against the washer, groin on fire, he was so aroused. Next, his blood was set to boiling when the blue-haired man reached around his waist and wrapped a hand around his length. His strokes started leisurely, but gradually grew more intense. Faster, harder.

"Ah, God," he whispered, hips moving along to the rhythm of Grimmow's hand.

The man's other hand came into Ichigo's peripheral vision, reaching for the tiny bottle of lubricant. He couldn't believe he was allowing this man to do this to him. He'd thought he would try it out with the person he decided to settle down with. Not with a one night stand. He gritted his teeth and clenched his bound hands into fists. Not only was he giving away his virginity, but he was doing it while relinquishing any control over the situation. He was placing a lot of trust in a man he didn't even really know.

A cold sensation snatched him from his thoughts and had him looking over his shoulder, trying to find out what was going on. All he saw was Grimmjow's wide, toothy grin. Not that he needed to see more in order to know what was happening. He recognized the sensation as the lubricant sliding between his cheeks. He tried to prepare himself for what came next, but was unable to. The gas attendant's long index finger slid along the seam of his rear and teased his anus. It automatically made him tense up. What was he thinking? He shouldn't do this with this man. He should wait and save the moment for someone he deemed special, someone he could truly trust. Then he scolded himself for inwardly sounding like a woman saving her virginity for marriage. It wasn't a bad thing, but it wasn't his style. He was a player. Why should something like this make a difference?

That finger probed at his entrance a bit before casually sliding inside. He couldn't hold back the gasp that left him, but he quickly covered it with a grunt. _I can't believe this is really happening_, he thought. His nails dug into his palms as he tried to calm down and breathe. Grimmjow hadn't even gotten to the good part and already Ichigo felt like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Ya gotta relax," the blue-haired man murmured against his ear. "This won't feel good if ya don't."

"I fucking know that," he gritted through tightly clenched teeth.

He released the fists he'd made and uncurled his toes. He took slow, even breaths, coaxing his muscles into a state of looseness that he didn't really agree with. That finger was so alien, so uncomfortable. He wanted to writhe and push it out of him, but just the thought of how he would do it was disgusting enough to get him to change his mind. Then the man's finger began moving, sliding in and out. It felt so wrong, but he had to stop telling himself that. If he didn't think of the action as arousing or erotic, this would end here, and he would be faced with the embarrassment of being unable to cope. Grimmjow would probably call him a tease before calling him a wuss. It was mortifying just to imagine.

"OK, OK," he muttered under his breath. "I can do this."

If the other man heard him, he didn't make it known, which Ichigo was infinitely grateful for. Once the calm breathing became normal for him, Grimmjow eased another finger inside of him, the slight stretching feeling more like a slight burning. His breath hitched, but he forced himself to continue like before. _Stay calm_, he coached himself. _Just relax and breathe_.

"Mmm," Grimmjow growled against his shoulder. "Yer loosening up fer me now."

The sound of the man's voice against his ear along with that still stroking hand made his dwindling arousal start to rise again. Ichigo closed his eyes and enjoyed the impassioned awareness in his groin. It momentarily took his mind off of what was going on with his backside. As Grimmjow's fingers caressed his insides, he slowly began moving against them. It didn't sting as much as it did in the beginning; in fact, it felt kind of nice. Before he knew it, his hips were moving almost frantically. Back against those long fingers, then forward into that expert hand. When Grimmjow added another finger to the mix, Ichigo barely registered it, he was so far gone with the pleasure overwhelming him. The man had begun stimulating his prostate, fingers rubbing over it again and again, sending shuddering waves of ecstasy coursing through his veins. That deep voice was moaning right along with him, adding to the symphony of sexual sounds, but then, everything abruptly stopped.

Both men were breathing fast, but Ichigo was almost desperate. He'd been on the brink of coming. Why the fuck did Grimmjow stop?

"What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped over his shoulder.

The other man chuckled, large hand reaching for the condom on the washer. "I'm gonna fuck you now. This is where it gets even better."

Ichigo was all riled up, arousal at its peak. Hips grinding against the cool washing machine, he gave a barely audible whimper. His skin felt tight and itchy and his mouth was dry as sand. God, that had been amazingly good. His head was in the clouds, still surrounded by thick plumes of lust, so he didn't hear the condom wrapper being opened, but he definitely registered the blunt heat pressed against his thrumming hole. The condom itself was lubricated as well, so Grimmjow slid in easily. But, God, the pain was back in full effect. Ichigo cringed and curled his toes as he bit his bottom lip.

"Nnnggh," he groaned.

His nails dug into his palms again as he abandoned his lip and gritted his teeth. Everything was tensed. After a quiet moan, Grimmjow leaned over Ichigo's back and nuzzled his ear with those soft lips.

"Calm down. Yer hurtin' me too."

"Well, fuck!" Ichigo snapped, pain making him lash out. "Excuse the shit outta me fer hurtin' _you_!"

The resulting chuckle from the taller man didn't help his mood, but his wayward hand did. It wrapped around Ichigo's dick again, while the other reached forward and pressed the start button on the washer.

"Maybe this'll help."

He frowned, confused, but soon understood when the machine began rumbling, sending strong vibrations through his erection. Grimmjow's hand disappeared, but ended up on his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. Ichigo blushed a little when he realized that that was normally what he would do. Now, he was being comforted and guided through first-time anal sex. The blue-haired man pressed down on his lower back, making him arch more over the washer and provide deeper penetration.

"Shit," Ichigo hissed.

It had to get better. It had to.

And it did.

Grimmjow slowly began moving his hips, his steel rod of a length fitting between Ichigo's walls like it belonged there. This sensation was much bigger than the one the fingers brought about. It made him feel like he was drowning, gasping for air and all. Each thrust was long and abysmal. They raised the hair all over his body. They made him squeeze his eyes shut and move with the man. The handcuffs rattled against pipe they were wrapped around as Grimmjow picked up speed and force.

"Mmm, yeah, that's good," the man rumbled heatedly.

Ichigo couldn't breathe. He'd never been in a state of arousal such as this before. The washer sent constant reverberations along his pelvis and groin, as well as his abdomen and thighs. It only dramatically added to the cresting waves of pleasure caused by the man pounding into him from behind. It was so new, so blindingly good, all he could do was moan and pant with his mouth wide open. The sound of their skin slapping together only heightened his arousal. He spread his legs as wide apart as they could go and continued to move with the blue-haired man, wishing his arms were free so he could touch the guy. It was maddening how hard he was.

"So good," he groaned.

Grimmjow grunted and upped the speed and force again. This time, it sent Ichigo over the edge. His entire body tensed as he forced himself onto that rock hard shaft over and over. Movements jerky and desperate, he finally came, long and hard. He threw his head back and strained against the cuffs as he cried out. He knew he was making a mess on the washing machine, but that didn't even matter right now. What mattered was the state of bliss he was fully submerged in. A few thrusts and harsh grunts later, Grimmjow came as well with a loud growl. His hips moved a couple more times, but finally stilled as he rested his weight along Ichigo's back. They were both exhausted and thoroughly sated for the time being. However, now that Ichigo was coming down from his lust-filled high, his wrists were protesting noisily.

"Can ya unlock these now?" he panted.

Grimmjow chuckled and slowly eased out of him. It made him wince, a deep throbbing starting up at his rear already. There was some shuffling from behind before the gas attendant's hand came into view. He hurriedly undid the cuffs, which Ichigo was eternally grateful for as he rubbed his wrists. He would probably have a chaffing bruise the next day, but it had been more than worth it. He backed away from the washing machine on wobbly legs and stared down at the mess he'd made.

"Um," he started.

"S'all good," Grimmjow interrupted. His following smile was to die for. "Didja enjoy yerself?"

Ichigo gave him a blank stare. "Seriously?"

"Heh! Guess I just wanna make sure I didn't make ya write off bein' on the receivin' end of things. Kinda wanna do it again."

That made him pause and study the taller man. He didn't consider this a one night thing?

"Really?"

Grimmjow nodded as he stepped closer. "Yeah, why not? It was good, right?"

"Hell yeah."

"Then what's the problem?"

Ichigo shrugged, unable to come up with a good reason not to see the man again. "Nothin', I guess."

Grimmjow took him by the hand and pulled him towards the door. "Let's watch a movie er somethin'."

"But we're naked."

"So?"

After another pause, Ichigo shrugged again and followed behind the man. They went back into the sitting area, where he instantly plopped onto the couch, legs weary and back strained. Grimmjow, however, strode over to the bar and went behind the counter.

"Ya wanna beer?" he asked, still entirely too sexy for his own good.

His hair hung over his brow and almost hid those shockingly blue eyes, while his body moved fluidly, muscles tensing and relaxing naturally. The man was absolutely gorgeous.

"Yeah, I'll take one."

Grimmjow grabbed two beers from the mini-fridge and headed over to the couch, Ichigo's eyes glued to his package the whole time. The man sat down, passed off a beer, then reached for the remote for the superb entertainment system in front of them. The TV came to life as well as the surround sound speakers hidden throughout the room, and Grimmjow leaned back against the cushions.

"Ever see Ready to Rumble?" he grunted after taking a swig from his beer.

Ichigo nodded, shocked and excited. He'd thought he was the only one that liked that movie. "Hell yeah! I love that shit; it's hilarious."

The blue-haired man grinned. "Cool."

Ichigo made himself comfortable against the cushions too as he sipped his own beer. Maybe he'd unintentionally stumbled upon the man that would make him settle down and hang up his cane. Honestly, he was looking forward to finding out. After all, pimpin' ain't easy.

**Again, this is a ONESHOT! Meaning there will be no updates, no additions, nothing. This is it! **

**Well, hope you enjoyed this. I know I did! I had a bunch of fun writing this whole thing and especially describing my grandpa's basement, which he does indeed call his "cave." Ah, well. Til next time.**


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